this is the one for me (time to meet the chef)

Labored breathing isn't exactly the hallmark of a fading Blade. Azurda had spoken slow, at his last mortal point, but perhaps no slower than usual.

Cole's heaves more critically resemble the capsizing of an ancient vessel.

"You were born an old man, I think."

Crude last rites from the little pink creature small enough to get stuck in a salvager's helmet; Cole wouldn't suffer them on any head except his balding own.

"Awakened. And so were you."

"I don't suppose they could do for you what they did for me...?"

Probably could. But...

"I don't suppose I'd want them to."